35. Kaden
Kaden
I wipe my hands on my jeans for the third time tonight. I don’t have to stay for long. Just go in, talk to Finn and Ollie for an hour or two, and then bail. I close my eyes, taking a deep breath, and open the door.
I’m met with “Bad Moon Rising” by Creedence Clearwater Revival as soon as I step inside. They’ve rented a bar, and it’s only our party here tonight. There are ten of us total, but I only know Ollie and Finn well.
I recognize Marcus and Wren from high school, but they’ve changed a lot. Marcus used to be a heavy kid. Now he looks like something Men’s Fitness could have spat out. And Wren—yeah, no, I take it back. Wren looks just the same, actually.
“Kaden! You made it!” Ollie shouts, jogging over.
“Hey, man!” I wave awkwardly.
He stops in his tracks. “Yeah, no hugging, I guess,” he says, waving back. We look like two idiots, standing six feet apart, waving at each other.
“How’ve you been? Man, I haven’t seen you in, what? A year? Are you still jamming? Finn and I are thinking about getting the band back together. Are you in? I think Jason was interested too.”
It never ends. Ollie can talk forever if you let him. I didn’t use to have a problem with that, and usually Finn’s the same, so they kept each other busy, and I could focus on my shit.
But now, it’s fucking torture. I just want him to stop so I can move on to Finn and then leave.
I just want to leave.
My hands are sweaty, and I keep running a hand through my hair, glancing around the room, looking for the bathroom. But then Marcus walks up and joins in the ever-lasting fucking monologue happening.
“Hey, let’s get you something to drink,” Ollie says then. “IPA? Lager?”
“Yeah, whatever’s fine. On bottle. I just need to hit the…” I nod at the bathroom and scurry away.
I wash my hands for too long, and it still doesn’t feel like enough. I comb my fingers through my hair, and then I snort when I think about how Seth would hate that I’m messing up his work.
It smells like stale beer and piss in here, I hate it, and I’d still rather stay in here all night than go back out there. My shoes stick to the floor with every step, making everything so much worse.
“There you are!” Finn grins at me. “Ollie said you were around here somewhere. Thanks for coming!” He walks up so close, I have to take a step back. His breath smells like booze, and cigars.
“Congrats, man!” I say, barely reaching to clap his shoulder.
“Thanks!”
“So, who’s the lucky girl?” I discreetly take another step back.
“Jessica Hughes,” he grins, looking so fucking proud, it brings a smile to my lips too.
Finn and Jessica met in high school, stayed together for two years or so, and then broke up when they went off to college. Finn was a mess.
“No way?”
He nods. “Yes, we got back in touch during lockdown. Basically had a long-distance relationship going for months. Then we finally met up, and I proposed two nights after.”
“What?” I laugh. “That’s sick!”
“Yeah,” he nods, laughing under his breath. “This damn pandemic, man.” He shakes his head. “I don’t know, it made me realize life’s too short. You just have to go for it, you know?” He shrugs.
I bite my lip, nodding. “Yeah.”
I gave it two hours, three beers and a shot, before I threw in the towel.
Finn was drunk off his ass when I left.
“We should hang soon,” he slurred, resting against the bar counter. “Ollie and I talked about getting the band back together. You in, right? You in? And Jason—Hey, Jason! Jason!” he shouted, turning his head side to side, like an owl.
“Yeah, we’ll see,” I said, thanked him and wished him good luck.
And then I finally walked out.
Two days later, I wake up with a sore throat and a fever.
I take three tests—they’re all negative but who the fuck knows? They’ve been lying around here for, what? A year? Isn’t there an expiration date on these fuckers?
The anxiety’s choking me. I feel sick, and my pulse is going a mile a minute. I wash my hands until they’re red. It doesn’t help. It’s too late, I’m already sick. Fuck!
I dig through my medicine drawer, coming up empty. I’ve run out of tests. I clench my fists, trying to get my breathing under control, and then I call Seth.
“Yo,” he drawls, sounding like he’s still asleep.
“Can you get me a test?” I rush out.
“What?”
“Can you—” I take a breath. “I need a test, Seth. I’m all out. Can you go buy me a test and bring it here?”
“What are you talking about? What te—are you sick?”
“Yeah,” I say, swallowing. “I woke up with a fever, and my throat is fucking killing me, and I need a test, Seth. Can you please—”
“Yeah, okay. Okay. I’ll be right there!”
I don’t know how much time passes, but I’m sweating and cold, and my hands are shaking when I crack open the door, leaving only three inches for Seth to hand me the bag.
“Hey,” he says. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. No. I don’t know. You should leave. Thanks!” I take the bag from him, and close the door.
I take all four tests he bought me—they’re negative too, but the feeling in my stomach isn’t going anywhere. Fuck!
All because of a fucking bachelor party. I knew it! I fucking knew it.
I said I didn’t want to go, and look what fucking happened.
I’m never leaving my house again.